Trying to find that key ingredient
Still not seeing it
Not able to bake that masterpiece
Disaster repeats itself over and over
'Cause I strove for greatness
And you see how lame this is?
So while pronouns verb nouns
Ideas grasp desperately for sounds
Forwards, backwards and upside down
A furious crescendo of backspaces
Virtually erases each incompetent phrase
An endless expanse of empty space
It's not like this thing’s of the utmost importance
And it’s not as though it really has to
“MAKE MORE SENSE! –shit!”
Bound forever by the pressure to be better
Am I going to regret or detest– “Gah! Whatever!”
Inspired by ghosts who wrote songs and books
Who had the courage to look for new ground
Found whole generations on their profound words and revolutionary sounds
Dramatic pause for the audience
Make the thought seem unforgettable
Assume I’m credible for better or worse
As I curse and–
At first that seemed clever but now it’s a joke
And each keystroke’s the punchline.
But each new line forward is a whole stanza back
Back to basics
Face it, perfection…
It’s not as easy as [snap] that
I’ve gone through eighty-seven spices
“DAMMIT! WHY DOES NOTHING WORK?”
With that jerk of a cursor
Always blinking. Mocking, taunting
Haunting each five-minute 'moment to regroup'
So it's time for something new
With blues lines and familiar red mar...gines
A blank canvas with no stress or pressure
A fresher medium
That I can feel with my fingers
Spread beneath my greedy thumbs
It's freedom from that blinking cursor
And now words are beginning to flow
An idea appears beneath my pen tip
Almost faster than I can even think of it
This way is permanent
No chance to think of what that first verse meant
Pent-up creativity
Released effect of immediately
Shit-- could that have been stuffier?
Why can't I just be enough-is-enoughier?
For lack of a better word
I'm a hack with some clever verses
Peddling redundant rhymes in double time
With personal tangents amidst useless cliches
Just another unconventional way
To impress girls and avoid the traditional
"Hey, what's your number?"
So cue the score, roll the credits
Fifty-six edits have brought me to this
A page stained with egotism
"Oh how great is him!"
They'll ungrammatically shout from the rooftops
"Poetry workshops have done he good!"
They'll continue and ruin the joke
So a bow to the crowd to signal my leave
I'm sure the guy timing the slam is relieved.
